I’m running, my boots pounding the stone floor, heart hammering in my chest. My breath comes in ragged gasps, but I push harder, my legs burning with each step. The echo of my footsteps is the only sound in the dark, cavernous temple where Lysandra’s final ritual is about to unfold. I can feel the energy crackling in the air, dark and heavy, like a storm about to break.
I can’t let her win. Not this time.
The altar comes into view, and my stomach drops. Ryker is lying there, blood staining the cold stone beneath him, his arms bound, his chest barely rising and falling. He’s alive—for now. But it won’t be for long. Lysandra stands over him, her long, black robes flowing like ink in the wind, her hands raised as she chants in a language I don’t understand. The room pulses with magic, and t
